


All My Best Titles Are Song Lyrics

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-21
Updated: 2008-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Jz.</p>
    </blockquote>





	All My Best Titles Are Song Lyrics

**Author's Note:**

> For Jz.

Spencer, Ryan concluded, had some kind of magical powers. That, or the uncanny ability to sweet-talk his boyfriend's friend's friend's security guards into getting them on the guest list for this entirely swanky, if rather vacuous and showy, party. It was LA, Ryan expected nothing less; he'd left his wide-eyed wonder behind somewhere around the third semester at UCLA when he realised this was just another city and he was just another music studies major.

But that night, at that swanky LA party, Ryan wasn't just another music studies major; that night, he was going to meet his favourite composer. The guy who wrote movie scores that made tears prickle at the back of Ryan's eyes, just the right notes at _just_ the right moments, delivered to perfection. He could always tell he was listening to a Urie score when his heart started swelling two minutes in.

He had been at the party for an hour when he felt his shoe connect with something that wasn't the floor; a voice said "_Ow_" behind him and he turned to apologise, and there, standing _right there_, was Brendon Urie.

Who was really, really hot in person.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Ryan launched into a big show of steadying Brendon, any excuse to touch him. "Are you okay? I did _not_ mean to tread on you - here, let me get you a drink."

"Oh - thanks, okay, yeah." Brendon put his weight onto the ball of his foot. "I'll be alright. But um, a drink would be nice." He looked at Ryan, properly, for the first time, and his smile widened. "Oh. Hey, hi, I'm Brendon."

Ryan had the bizarre urge to say _I know_, but instead he just said, "Ryan. So what are you having?"

The smile changed tone. "Well, that all depends what's on offer, Ryan." Brendon's voice dropped a little on the last syllable.

_Fuck me_, Ryan thought about saying, but went for flirting rather than actually throwing himself at the guy. "I'm sure there's a lot of choices," he said, lowering his lashes. _Three, two, one -_

"There's one option I'm liking the look of," Brendon returned, voice staying low, a warmth spreading somewhere behind his cheekbones. It lit up his eyes, Ryan noticed as he glanced up and then back down. The movement was coy, and he caught Brendon's lips parting just a little out of the corner of his eye.

_Bingo_. "Yeah?" Ryan asked; a challenge, but not an aggressive one. Sexual energy was practically pouring between them.

"Brendon, honey," a voice cut in, and a bubbly-looking brunette cozied up to him, handing him a glass of champagne. "Why aren't you networking?"

"I'm doing a little of my own, uh." He extracted himself. "Mad, be a doll and network on my behalf? You're doing such a beautiful job already, I couldn't _possibly_ do it better myself." He batted his eyelashes at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Do yourself a favour," she said to Ryan, who was trying not to stand too awkwardly, "don't be a personal assistant."

"Secretary," Brendon corrected her.

She fixed him with a look. "Dogsbody."

"Beloved employee," he countered, and folded her in his arms. "Who I couldn't _ever do without_."

"Okay, okay," she struggled out of the hug, "fine, I'll network for you. But you have to be back in an hour, Brendon. Promise me."

"Alright, alright, I promise. You're the best." He kissed her cheek and she took off into the throng.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What, so you think you can just flirt, get laid, and come back in an hour to mingle some more?"

Brendon's face fell. He opened his mouth, but Ryan added hastily, "Because you totally can."

Brendon sidled up to him. "The party won't last _all_ night. It takes three minutes to get to my place."

Ryan swallowed. "Okay."

It actually took two minutes and forty-eight seconds; Ryan noticed the hands on his watch as they left and checked it again at Brendon's door. His apartment was stylish, minimally furnished, and had a framed gold disc on one wall, movie posters on a few others. The bedroom was clean and almost neat, though it had the air of having been cleaned specially. Probably in case Brendon met someone at the party.

Ryan undid his shirt and dropped his pants, stepping forward to take Brendon's tux off. "Careful, it's rented," was the only thing Brendon said, and then Ryan just sank to his knees and took Brendon's already half-hard cock into his mouth. Brendon made a sound in his throat, grasped handfuls of Ryan's hair. He pulled on it as Ryan sucked, and Ryan stopped, looked up at him, cock sliding from his mouth.

"Could you not?" he asked.

"What? Oh. Sorry." Brendon made that sound again as Ryan took his cock back between his lips, sucking at it languidly. It was completely hard now, and Ryan worked at getting it as wet as possible.

When he slid it out of his mouth again, wiping his bottom lip to break the string of saliva still attached there, Brendon made a noise of protest but Ryan just said, "You got condoms, right? Lube?"

Brendon nodded. "Yeah, yeah, uh. Yeah." He stumbled over to a chest of drawers beside the bed, fumbling with something, and tossed a package and a tube onto the bed.

Ryan crouched on it, bouncing on his knees. "Here, I'll," he said, taking the lube and squeezing some out onto his fingers. He coated them up, reached behind and under, and started working himself open. He knew it wouldn't take much, and it was just always faster if he did it himself.

Brendon was watching, wide-eyed. "Um," he said.

Ryan nodded at the condom. "Put it on, come on, we have fifty minutes."

"That's really not romantic," Brendon pointed out, but Ryan snorted. "It's not sexy either," Brendon continued. Ryan had to concede that one.

"Okay, how about put the damn condom on, I want you to fuck me. That better?"

Brendon swallowed. "Yeah, yeah that's better. Um." He fumbled with the packet as Ryan finished up preparing himself. The packaging tore a little, but the condom itself appeared fine. Brendon sort of paused, so Ryan took it out of his hand and rolled it on, keeping his hand splayed as he did so. Brendon's head tipped back.

Ryan followed the condom with a coating or two of lube, and then dropped to all fours. "Okay," he said, and he felt Brendon's hands on his hips. There was a pause, as though Brendon was going to say something, but then he was just pushing in, and Ryan pressed back onto him, relaxed his muscles, and closed his eyes.

It felt good, good like always, to be filled up. Brendon was nicely-proportioned, satisfyingly thick, and he dragged in and out slowly at first, leaving a pattern of soft kisses over Ryan's back (which sort of made his heart flutter a little bit, no one really thought to do that; biting, sure, and maybe licking over his shoulder blades with a flat tongue, but Brendon was kissing, just lightly, and it made his skin wake up and tingle). Ryan pushed back onto him and grunted, "Harder."

"Oh. Right, um, okay." Brendon went a little faster, but not really deeper or harder. Ryan tried to stop himself whining in the back of his throat.

"_Harder_," he repeated, slamming back with his hips.

"Sorry," Brendon muttered. He fumbled the rhythm, pushing in deeper, movements a little more sharp but not _enough_, not quite _enough_.

"Stop," Ryan instructed, and Brendon did. He pressed his face into Ryan's back, and it felt hot.

"Sorry, um," Brendon started, but Ryan was moving, turning to face him, flipping him over onto his back and climbing on, one thigh either side. He sank back onto Brendon, filling himself _deliciously_. Brendon's eyes were wide. "Wow. Shit, I - shit, Ryan."

"Shhh," Ryan gasped out, positioning his legs in the best angles, splaying one palm on Brendon's hip, other hand wrapping around his cock, and he started slamming himself up and down on Brendon.

"Shit," Brendon whispered, watching him. He bucked his hips up and _fuck_ that felt good, so Ryan moaned. Brendon grasped for Ryan's hips and bucked up into him, trying to match his rhythm but never quite making it. He hit _just_ the right spot once or twice, and Ryan arched back, long loud groans escaping. Brendon yelped and bucked up _hard_, and Ryan came a minute later, holding Brendon's cock between his muscles, jerking hard with his wrist.

Brendon's stomach was sticky as Ryan climbed off him. "Mind if I take a shower?"

Brendon was lying there, hardly moving except to breathe, struggling to return it to calm and regular. "Sure," he said, "bathroom's at the end of the hall."

The water was hot, and Ryan let it cascade over his skin as he stood in the shower, thighs still shaking. No matter how much water passed over his back, it wouldn't stop tingling where Brendon's lips had pressed.

They made it back to the party before Brendon's hour was up, and he disappeared into the crowd. Ryan found Spencer near the finger buffet, looking a little bored. "Hey, having a good time?" Spencer looked at him, and then stopped. "Did you _shower_?"

"Yeah." Ryan didn't say anything else. Not out loud, at least. They held a conversation entirely in eye movements and ear scratches, at the end of which Spencer laughed.

"Fine, okay, let's go. I'll round up Jon."

*

Ryan was absorbed in a book. It was Sunday morning, and on Sunday mornings _civilised_ people did not sneak up behind people who were busy reading and put their arms around said reading person's neck.

Jon Walker, clearly, was not a civilised person. "Morning."

"I know," Ryan tried to fend him off. "I'm reading."

"Ryan, your love for me is deep and meaningful, don't pretend that it isn't." Jon propped his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "Talk to me."

"I'm _reading_." Ryan tilted the book to illustrate the point. "Go and bother your boyfriend."

"Spencer's asleep." Jon poked him in the shoulder. "And I want to talk to you."

"Fine," Ryan sighed, closing the book. Why Spencer couldn't just spend his Sundays at Jon's apartment, Ryan did not know. "What about?"

"William told me Pete told him Jeff told _him_ Brendon was asking around. Trying to get your last name, maybe a phone number."

"Oh." Something flared at the bit of his belly; it felt far too much like hope. Ryan silenced it.

"Did you really have sex with him?" Jon asked. "Just, in the middle of the party?"

Ryan shrugged. It did not dislodge Jon's chin, merely made him snuggle further into Ryan's neck. "Yes," Ryan answered.

Jon sucked his breath in. "Did he _mention_ that he was a virgin?"

Ryan broke away and span around. "You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me."

"No, I mean - okay, I don't have like, a detailed history of his sex life, but I do know he hadn't had full _sex_. He was brought up Mormon, dude, I thought you knew that." Jon's eyes were wide. "Seriously, the fuck, Ryan? I thought you paid _attention_ to the guy."

"I pay attention to his _music_," Ryan said, staring. "And I'd seen maybe three pictures of him before I met him. Shit, you're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." Jon dug around in his pocket. "Here - he heard a rumour Pete knew someone who knew someone who knew you, he said to give you this." He held out a folded piece of paper.

Ryan took and unfolded it. Scribbled in a messy hand were ten digits and the name _Brendon_, and _call me, Ryan_ written underneath.

Jon patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go buy some breakfast for Spence." He stretched, hunted for his wallet, and Ryan heard the door close behind him.

He programmed Brendon's number into his phone. He'd call. He'd call when it wasn't early on a Sunday morning and he knew from experience that if he didn't take Hobo for her walk now, he'd get back in the middle of Spencer and Jon having sex. And Spencer got loud. There were some things you just did not need to hear your best friend doing, and Jon Walker was one of those things.

*

Monday, he had class and then a shift at the coffee shop. Tuesday, he had a morning shift and then only one class. He dug his phone out of his pocket on the way out, flipping open the screen and switching it back from silent to buzz. He had three texts from Spencer; he replied to them, checked his email, and then sat on a bench out in the campus, hovering his finger over the tracking ball, address book stopped at the entry marked 'Brendon'.

He wondered what the hell he would say. Sorry I didn't know you were a virgin? Hey, the sex wasn't awful, want to have some more? The pad of his thumb rocked the tracking ball back and forth, back and forth.

He ended up clicking 'call' by accident. After a momentary panic during which he almost hit 'cancel', he just flipped the screen closed and held it to his ear.

It rang. "Hey, this is Brendon," a familiar voice answered.

"Hi." Ryan cleared his throat. "You uh, this is Ryan. From the party a couple of weeks ago? Uh. You gave a friend this number, so. I'm calling."

"_Ryan_," Brendon said, sounding eight thousand times more excited just in those two syllables than he had ten seconds ago. "I didn't think you'd call!"

"Yeah. Well." Ryan shrugged, swallowing. "I had a good time, and um. Thought maybe we could do it again. Maybe."

"_Yeah_, yeah, that'd be - _yeah_. When are you free?"

Ryan was about to mentally go through his schedule, but his mouth opened and he heard himself say, "Thursday at eight?" Thinking about it, that _was_ the only time he'd be free in the next week.

"Thursday at eight is _awesome_," Brendon said, sounding like he was beaming. Ryan wondered for a minute how old Brendon was, but he figured it'd be less awkward to quietly Google it than to ask. "How about you swing by my place, I'll take you out to dinner."

Ryan blinked. He didn't get many real _date_ dates, he sort of fell into things with friends. "Um. Sure, that sounds good."

"What do you like to eat? I'm sort of vegetarian, so -"

"How can you be sort of vegetarian?" Ryan interrupted. "What, you eat fish or something?"

"Uh. I just, I don't like animals being killed, you know? But um, sometimes I'll eat something with meat in it. My moral boundaries are bendable." He sounded sheepish.

"Hey, at least you're trying. I _have_ no moral boundaries."

Brendon made a sort of little sound in his throat, but all he said was, "'s the way to go."

"Exactly." Ryan felt himself starting to smile. It felt comfortable, really really good, and he realised that he just wanted to stay on the phone for a while, talking to Brendon. Looking at his watch, however, reminded him that he couldn't. "Shit, I have to go. I got work, and I'm closing the store tonight."

"Store?" Brendon asked, sounding interested.

"Yeah, I work in a bookstore. And a coffee shop. Grad school's fucking expensive."

"Oh man, I hear that. My senior year of high school I worked two jobs, did school, and I was trying to compose stuff."

"That's harsh. Parents help you out?" There was something in his voice that made Ryan wonder.

Air rushed over the mouthpiece. "Not - I left home, so. Hence the two jobs, I was paying for the apartment and stuff."

"Yeah?" Ryan didn't really know what else to say to that. "Sounds tough."

When Brendon spoke again, he sounded like he was grinning. "Yeah, but it was character-building. I got _lots_ of character."

Ryan laughed. "I'm getting that," he said. His chest felt light. "I really have to go get ready for work, I'm still at school right now. But I'll see you on Thursday, okay?"

"Eight o'clock," Brendon confirmed, sounding happy. Ryan couldn't help himself smiling. "I'll see you then."

Ryan spent the next couple of days alternately nervous about what to wear and sort of desperate for Brendon to fuck him again. In the end, he had Spencer and Jon pick out a shirt for the date; they chose different ones and argued over whether Ryan looked better in brown or red. He wore black just to shut them both up.

In the few seconds before Brendon answered the door at ten to eight on Thursday, Ryan examined the small flock of eagles that had taken up residence in his stomach and discovered that they weren't, in fact, there because this was Brendon Urie and he really liked this guy's music. They were there because his back had started tingling again and he maybe couldn't stop thinking about the way Brendon said his name while they were flirting. He swallowed a few times, and then the door opened and Brendon was standing there in a soft, dark red shirt, and Ryan's mouth went dry.

"Hi," Brendon started, brightly, but Ryan just stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and kissed Brendon.

It didn't even occur to him until Brendon started kissing back that they had not, in fact, done this before. Although _why_ they hadn't was lost on Ryan, because Brendon's mouth was pretty much incredible and he tasted really quite nice, and Ryan slid his hands over Brendon's waist. Brendon shivered and smiled into Ryan's mouth and it was a while before they broke apart.

"So," Brendon said, a little breathless, looking really quite thoroughly kissed and Ryan was going to _nibble_ on that lip in a minute, "want me to give you the tour? I have a Journey gold disc."

Ryan started laughing, just pure bubbles of happiness, because he'd just noticed that Brendon was sort of a dork, and that he really didn't mind that, and actually he found it rather endearing. So he put his hand in Brendon's, eyes still crinkled up at the edges, and said, "Lead the way."


End file.
